I didn't mention this before, but I work at a small record store (well, music store) that is often busy around the holidays. I was utterly exhausted after I got home yesterday, so naturally, I didn't blog. I just went to bed and met my muscles lock themselves into stiffness.
But I bring this up because about a week ago, a girl comes into the store looking for The Coral. I don't know why, but they never seem to have hit it big on this side of the Atlantic, but their output is phenomenal, so I've been a fan since I first heard "Dreaming of You." So I was thrilled when this cute girl with blonde hair and a ripped t-shirt comes in and asks for a band I've been pushing on my friends for years. I start chatting her up, and we make dinner plans. Except she tells me she's leaving town so we have to meet up when she gets back... which I just found out was this weekend. She wants to meet me saturday night, in fact. And I can't exactly tell her "Saturday's no good, my penis won't be outta the shop until Sunday at the earliest." She's in Montréal and doesn't have a phone right at the moment, and her e-mail is sketch. So I have to sit tight until she calls me and says "Hey I'm back in town." I'm just kinda stewing right now.
As far as music goes, I'm noticing the gender slant in the music I like. Take for instance, the album I had on in the store last night, Aerosmith's Pump. So, I love Aerosmith. I think they're the finest rock and roll band America ever produced. Their blues instrumentation is irresistable, their lyrics always smartass and at their best, filthy in a subtle kind of way. But when a song like "Young Lust" opens the album, as a man in a girl's body, lyrics like "Better keep your daughter inside/Or she's gonna get a dose of my pride" aren't totally comforting. And the album basically continues in that vein through "F.I.N.E.," "Love in an Elevator," "My Girl," and "Don't Get Mad, Get Even." Not to mention "What It Takes" becomes a different ordeal when you imagine a guy singing to you about that. Aerosmith has thousands, millions of female fans, I've been to their concerts. I'm assuming that means real women are better at dealing with whatever my hang up is.I'm comfortable with my physiology. I'm comfortable with my fashion. i'm even comfortable with the slight change in my speech patterns (to everyone I've spoken to in the last three days: I really am sorry for saying "like" so much!) But it would take much more than a week, I think, to be any sort of comfortable with anything to do with sex. And that's time I hope not to have.
But I'm learning about sex, albeit from a very hypothetical point of view. The girls are being pretty sketchy on the details, joking that I should just "try it for myself," but all I'm interested right now is the dynamic - the chase rather than the, erm... act. For years I couldn't escape the notion that, as a man, I wanted sex, and women didn't; so it was my job to convince them.
The dirty little secret has been staring us in the face for years, men. The difference between men and women's attitudes toward sex is only the same as the distinction between their parts. That meaning, different on the outset, but with the same basic function. Women want sex. They do. Traditionally, it's the man, with his penis, will make the aggressive moves toward sex. The woman, with her inwardly-turned biology and psychology, wants to be chased. Wants to be shown the attention. Not convinced, per se, but at least shown she's not an object. And even though a guy like me doesn't think of women like that, words are cheap. Like I said, I can't say for sure, I've only been renting mine for half a week, and I have no intention of finding out beyond whatever I do behind closed doors with myself, if and when I decide the curiosity is killing me too bad.
I...can't type to much more in this vein... must keep focus... it's only by the grace of God and too much homework that I haven't caved already.
On that note, I came across this...
SUBTLE PASSION (Ruth Weal, pictured)
I would have you show me the subtle passion that I have always known in your arms, I would have you strip away my calm and erode my resolve, beneath your deft fingers I long to dissolve. In promise my whole frame arches for you, in my passion I would have you pass through. Hypnotised by your hunger for me, silently begging for you to release me.
I would have you worship at the altar of my flesh; bringing our bodies together as our souls’ enmesh. I would have you fulfil my every debased secret and want. Let me see the soul that I can free with my words and my touch, I have never wanted anything or anyone ever this much. Yours is a hunger that cannot be assuaged, in my love for you I will never be swayed.
I would have you deliver the poet in me; she worships you and only thee. She was bereft when you were not in my life, in her endless grief she did weep. Broken without you in my arms, bereft of hope when I lost you from my sight, without your presence there was no light. I would own your flesh and deliver your soul, do anything to know your whole.
I would go everywhere you do, just to see your face, to see you smile for me. I would have you let me see that I can cause you more than just passion, guilt and pain. I would know that this road we travel is not in vain. I would have you know the rapture of my flesh enfolded around yours, have you know the passion in me to which you are the cause.
I would have you here this very moment, to lie here by my side, stroking my hair, dispelling my fears and owning my tears. I fear the power you have over me and how I will ever let you leave. Seeing you has changed everything, nothing now will ever be the same.
-Alex
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